Sinope's Fiction: And Then They Kiss

Title: And Then They Kiss
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warning: Underage sexuality, dubious consent.
Summary: "Do you ever feel like you want to do something really, really dumb, just so you'll know exactly how dumb it would be?"
Author's notes: Based on a beautiful sketch of the same name Joosetta (unfortunately no longer online, as far as I can tell).
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.

It was the day after NEWTs ended, and Draco found Harry sitting cross-legged on a table in the empty Charms classroom. All the predictable words had been said a week ago - wasn't meant to last, wouldn't ever work outside Hogwarts, ridiculous idea anyway - and Draco would've left, except that Harry was fiddling with the ratty black quill that he'd lent Harry a month ago and never gotten back. Over and over, Harry ran his fingers over the now-dull feather, apparently mesmerized by its whispery springiness.

Harry looked up, his fingers freezing for a second. "I - yeah. I know." He began stroking the feather again, slightly quicker with nervousness this time. "So, you've packed already?"

"Not yet." Draco leaned against the table lazily, slipping back into comfortable conversation despite himself. "The bloody house elves still haven't returned my laundry. It's as if everyone in the castle's gotten to have theirs done first," he scowled absently.

Dust motes danced in the afternoon sun, flecking Harry's hair with misty gold, and Draco couldn't decide whether the thhhhhft, thhhhhft of the quill was soothing or irritating. Finally, Harry spoke. "Is it okay if I keep the quill? I mean, I have other ones, and I can buy you a new one, it's just. That."

"That what?" Draco asked, not looking at Harry because he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"That - I - it's stupid, never mind." Harry dropped the quill onto the table abruptly, drawing up one knee to his chin and wrapping his arms around it. "Do you ever feel like you want to do something really, really dumb, just so you'll know exactly how dumb it would be?"

Draco raised one eyebrow, meeting Harry's eyes again and once more feeling a jab of that warm, familiar glow. "Not really," he said, shrugging. "If I wanted to do something dumb, I'd just do it because I wanted to."

Somehow, he realized, he'd said the right thing, because Harry looked straight at him with green, fathomless eyes. "Do you want to do this?"

And then Harry's arm was around Draco's neck, pulling him toward him and guiding Draco's lips to his own. A shiver ran down Draco's spine, but he didn't move or pull away, because it was only a kiss, only the same thing that they'd done a thousand times already.

Harry's lips were urgent, though, and needy, suckling at Draco's lips and parting to explore him with his tongue. Harry pushed their faces together until his glasses dug into Draco's cheek and Draco drew back, awkwardly breathless. "I thought that we -"

"- I know," Harry interrupted, and he kissed Draco again, and this time Draco felt himself giving in completely. "I know what we said, but I guess it's just that I don't ever want to stop doing this. And you can say no of course and you probably will but I didn't want to leave without asking you. That's all."

It wasn't his own fault, Draco decided. It was the sunshine that felt pleasantly warm on his stomach, and the security of Harry's leg propping up his back, and the way that Harry's eyelashes fluttered earnestly and half-fearfully. "Fine, then," he said.

finis.